


still alive and well

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3505652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire needs patching up after a bar fight and since Combeferre isn't around, it's up to Enjolras to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	still alive and well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthecynic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthecynic/gifts).



> For [rthecynic](http://rthecynic.tumblr.com/), who was one of the winners of the fic giveaway I did on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/). I hope you like it!

Enjolras fished his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Combeferre – _I bought vegetables, I hope you’re proud_ – before he exchanged it for his keys as he approached his building. He’d promised Combeferre that he’d eat something other than takeout while he was gone, so he’d gone grocery shopping on his way home from the library. He’d bought carrots. Those probably counted as healthy food.

As he got closer, he saw that there was a dark lump lying on the steps leading up to the front door. Enjolras was on a good way to getting angry about people just dumping their trash right in front of their door when he realized that the lump wasn’t actually a trash bag but a person. And not just any person. It was Grantaire, hunched over, his black coat wrapped around him tightly.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Grantaire muttered when Enjolras had stepped closer, “but I was really hoping you were Combeferre.”

“Combeferre is visiting his family,” Enjolras said flatly, bending down to take a closer look at Grantaire’s face. There was a big purple bruise forming right under his eye and some barely dried blood on his cheek. “What the hell happened to you?”

“There was a guy,” Grantaire mumbled, freezing when Enjolras reached out, fingers hovering right above his bruise.

“And that guy just decided to punch you in the face?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t relate. Well, the guy and I had a bit of a disagreement.” Grantaire shrugged, followed by a pained huff. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask Combeferre to take a look at this…” He pushed back his curls, revealing a cut on his temple that was still bleeding.

Enjolras took Grantaire by the arm without hesitation. “Okay, let’s get you inside.”

Grantaire didn’t protest and let Enjolras drag him up to his and Combeferre’s apartment, let Enjolras get him out of his coat and didn’t utter a word of complaint when Enjolras pushed him into the kitchen and onto a chair. 

“Just wait here for a second,” Enjolras said, put down his shopping on the kitchen counter, quickly threw his and Grantaire’s jackets over the coat rack and then went to the bathroom to get a washcloth and their first aid kit.

He returned to Grantaire, beckoning him to join him by the sink. “Can you bend over, so I can–”

Grantaire stood up, looking a little wobbly on his feet but smirking at Enjolras. “Anything for you,” he said.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Enjolras said gruffly, ignoring that his face was starting to get hot. Now was not the time for any of the quite possibly inappropriate things he felt for Grantaire. 

“Like what?” Grantaire asked innocently and bent over the sink. “Just run some water over it and it’ll be just fine.”

“Right,” Enjolras mumbled and picked up the washcloth. He should probably call Combeferre, just to make sure that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Or maybe Joly. “Why didn’t you go to Joly’s?”

“Your place was closer,” Grantaire said quietly. “Anyway, Joly might have dragged me to the hospital and–”

“I should take you to the hospital,” Enjolras said. He brushed Grantaire’s curls out of the way, inspecting the cut with a frown. He wasn’t a doctor, he didn’t really know what to do and he definitely couldn’t tell when a wound needed to be stitched up.

“No, you really shouldn’t. I don’t need stitches or anything. This is just a lot easier when someone’s helping me. Even you can do it.”

Enjolras scowled at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you have a lot of experience with bar fights,” Grantaire said, his lips twitching again. “Or fights in general.”

Honestly, Enjolras knew more than enough. He’d been part of way too many peaceful protests that hadn’t stayed entirely peaceful. He didn’t throw punches if he didn’t have to, he’d rather fight his battles with words, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t had his fair share of black eyes and bruised knuckles.

“Come on,” Grantaire grumbled, dipping his head a little lower.

Enjolras sighed and started to very carefully clean up the cut on Grantaire’s temple, washing off all of the blood, trying to get it out of his hair. Grantaire hissed a couple of times, shifted uncomfortably every now and again, and eventually straightened up with a groan.

“Okay, I think that’s good,” Grantaire mumbled.

“It’s still bleeding.” Enjolras wrung out the washcloth and pressed it against Grantaire’s temple. “Are you sure you don’t need stitches?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure that it’s not deep, head wounds just bleed a lot. And you can hardly call it a wound anyway.” Grantaire reached up, covering Enjolras’ hand with his own. “You can let go, I got it.”

Enjolras blinked down at him for a moment, very slowly pulling his hand away. “I’ll get you a band aid,” he muttered.

“Yeah, get me a big one, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You can’t go home like this,” Enjolras protested. Honestly, what was Grantaire thinking? He was hurt, he couldn’t just walk back to his own place halfway across town, because he knew Grantaire – he definitely wouldn’t let Enjolras talk him into taking a cab. Maybe he’d even manage to get into yet another bar fight. “What if something happens to you?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Grantaire leaned back against the counter, putting down the washcloth once Enjolras had found a big enough band aid in their first aid kid. “Ouch,” he muttered when Enjolras put it over his cut, probably just for emphasis.

Enjolras did play with the thought of telling him not to be such a baby, but took another look at Grantaire’s black eye and quickly changed his mind. It probably hurt like hell. “Do you want to put some ice on that bruise?”

“Yes, please,” Grantaire said, already moving to open the door of the freezer. He hummed thoughtfully and eventually pulled out a bag of frozen vegetables. “Those will do,” he mumbled and put the bag on his face, letting out a drawn-out groan.

Enjolras quickly turned away in an attempt to hide the blush that was spreading across his cheeks. Seriously, Grantaire couldn’t just make noises like that. “Do you want something to eat?” Enjolras asked him. He pulled a bag of pizza rolls out of his shopping bag. “Don’t tell Combeferre.”

“That you bought pizza rolls? Or that it’s past nine and you still haven’t had dinner?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows, very obviously regretting exactly that about a second later.

“Well,” Enjolras said with a shrug, “both, I guess. I promised him that I’d eat healthy food while he was gone. I did also buy carrots, though.”

Grantaire snorted, shifting the bag on his face. “Yeah, just have a carrot with the pizza rolls and you’re good.”

“So, do you want some?” Enjolras asked. “Or would you rather put them on your face?”

“Wow, Enjolras, you’re so funny,” Grantaire grumbled. “Hilarious, really.”

Enjolras grinned and started arranging the pizza rolls on a plate. He’d completely forgotten about how hungry he’d been before he’d found Grantaire downstairs.  “You can go wait for me in the living room, I’ll bring the food over in a bit.”

Grantaire did, smiling when Enjolras joined him, setting down a tray with the pizza rolls and two glasses of water on the coffee table. Enjolras picked a movie on Netflix and they ate their food in silence, handing the plate back and forth.

Even though Enjolras would never say it out loud, he really liked having Grantaire here with him. Especially because he wasn’t as obnoxious as usual today. He didn’t complain about the movie that Enjolras had picked, not even when it turned out to be some really cheesy romcom that Enjolras definitely hadn’t put in his Netflix queue. He could probably blame that one on Courfeyrac.

Grantaire picked up his water, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t have anything stronger, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Enjolras said sternly.

“Thought so,” Grantaire mumbled, took a sip and set it back down. He picked up the bag of vegetables again, now already thawing, and leaned back again with a wince.

“Are you okay?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. No need to make a fuss.”

“I’m not making a fuss,” Enjolras said, arching an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Well, remember that guy I told you about? The one I had a disagreement with? He might have also kicked me,” Grantaire said lowly, his hand curled around his side. “Just a little,” he was quick to add. “I swear, I’ve had worse.”

“He kicked you?” Enjolras reached out to pull up Grantaire’s shirt. “Let me see.”

“It’s not…” Grantaire trailed off, apparently giving up on arguing, now that Enjolras had already reached out to trail his fingers over Grantaire’s skin.

It wasn’t a big bruise and not nearly as bad as the one on Grantaire’s face, so Enjolras decided to trust Grantaire’s judgement on this one. Anyway, if Grantaire’s ribs were cracked, he’d be downplaying his pain quite a bit.

“See, it’s not that bad,” Grantaire said. He pulled his shirt back into place and set the bag of frozen veggies back down. “I guess I should get going.”

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Enjolras suggested. “I’d rather keep an eye on you.”

“It’s just some bruises, Enjolras.”

“Still,” Enjolras said. “I obviously can’t force you, but I’m worried. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Grantaire stared at him for a long moment and Enjolras had a feeling that he might be about to start arguing with him, but he eventually just sighed and sank a little further down on the sofa, yawning heartily. Enjolras wordlessly handed him a blanket and then got to his feet.

“I’ll get you some painkillers.”

Grantaire gave him a soft smile in return and, once he’d swallowed the painkillers and Enjolras had made himself comfortable on the couch again, Grantaire curled up next to him, the blanket sloppily tucked around himself, his head pillowed on Enjolras’ thigh.

“So you really don’t mind if I stay?” Grantaire asked.

“As long as you don’t mind that I’ll wake you up in about an hour.”

Grantaire groaned. “I don’t have a fucking concussion, there’s no need to do that.”

“Go to sleep,” Enjolras said, quite pleased with himself when Grantaire didn’t utter any further protests. He waited until Grantaire’s breathing had evened out and then tucked the blanket around him properly so he wouldn’t get cold.

Enjolras tried his hardest to concentrate on the quite frankly terrible movie and not Grantaire, who was mumbling in his sleep and nuzzling against Enjolras’ thigh every now and again. It was almost ironic that it had taken Enjolras ages to even accept Grantaire as part of their group and now he liked him so much more than he should. Enjolras had no idea how it had come to this, but he was very well aware that he was already in too deep.

Grantaire shifted, his brow creased. He didn’t look exactly comfortable, so Enjolras very slowly started to card his fingers through his curls, smiling when Grantaire relaxed a little. Enjolras kept stroking his hair for a while, only stopping when the movie was finally over. He turned off the TV and shook Grantaire awake.

Grantaire huffed at Enjolras and sat up. “Guess what, I’m still alive and well.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him. “You don’t look well, so forgive me for being worried about you.”

“Sorry,” Grantaire muttered. He bit his lip. “Thanks for patching me up, seriously, I do appreciate it, I just don’t want to be a nuisance or anything.”

Well, that was a first coming from Grantaire. “I wasn’t trying to get you to thank me,” Enjolras only said. He was sure that Grantaire would have done the same for him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Grantaire smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re totally trying to get in my pants,” he mused. “I mean, first you tell me to bend over, then you nearly take my shirt off, now you want me to go to bed with you…”

“I’m not going to bed _with_ you,” Enjolras said. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Nah, don’t be ridiculous.” Grantaire winked at him. “We’ll share and I’ll try not to cuddle you too hard.” He smiled, his cheeks turning pink. “Wow, you know, those painkillers really are the shit.”

Which was why Enjolras definitely shouldn’t be sharing a bed with him.

Grantaire held out his hand. “Are you coming?”

Enjolras sighed and reluctantly took his hand. He’d make sure to stay on his own side of the bed.


End file.
